


Not Quite Ruined

by LibbyWeasley



Series: Blanca and Libby Do Kink Bingo [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Captain Fitz and English lady Jemma, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Napoleonic Wars, Ravishment, Spies, Undercover, regency au, smugglers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/pseuds/LibbyWeasley
Summary: Miss Jemma Simmons is looking for someone to ruin her so her mother will stop trying to arrange a suitable marriage. She decides Fitz, who is actually working for Coulson and is undercover as the captain of The Shield, is the one she wants to ravish her. He says no...but Jemma can be very convincing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to @agentofship for the beautiful, incredible, amazing art (I’m never going to get over how much I love it!!). Check out my post on tumblr to see the art.
> 
> And also to @blancasplayground for being a wonderful cheerleader, beta, and kink bingo partner.
> 
> Square filled: Regency AU

_The English Channel, 1815_

“Fitz!” 

At the sound of his name in an all too familiar tone, Fitz looked up to see Hunter striding towards him with a gait that somehow looked both jaunty and commanding. For the hundredth time that day he found himself wishing Hunter was in charge of this mission. He was much better suited to the role of captain than Fitz. But Coulson _had_ put Fitz in charge of this mission since Hunter was “too close to remain objective,” and his friend had delighted in bringing every problem to Fitz’s attention rather than handling it himself. 

“What is it now?” Fitz asked, letting his exasperation show. 

First there had been the problem with the rigging, which had caused them to almost miss the tide and put their departure behind schedule. Then the crew had been squabbling and Fitz had to step in to make sure the grog was distributed properly. Honestly, they were supposed to be a crew of smugglers, not schoolboys. And now Hunter was bringing him yet another problem that needed to be solved. He’d much rather be in his cabin, working on his designs to improve the ship. There was no telling how much longer Britain would be at war, and if he was going to be making this voyage again he wanted to have the best ship crossing the English Channel.

“Stowaway, captain,” Hunter said with a smirk.

“Isn’t that the sort of thing you can handle, first mate?” A stowaway didn’t seem to merit the look Hunter was giving him.

“Normally I would...but she isn’t my type.”

Fitz scratched one finger over the stubble on his chin, wondering what sort of woman wasn’t Hunter’s type. They all seemed to flock to him and he certainly appreciated them — in the way that other men enjoyed fine port or snuff. It made him wonder what sort of urchin had stowed away on his ship.

“Alright,” he said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Where is she?”

“I left her in your cabin. One of the men found her down in the hold. But be careful...she’s a little feisty,” Hunter added with a wink before sauntering off, yelling something that sounded authoritative at two members of the crew who happened to be working nearby.

Fitz walked slowly to his cabin and opened the door cautiously. Inside was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen The only woman he’d ever wanted from the moment he’d seen her from across a ballroom three years ago, no longer the child she had once been. The stab of recognition was almost a physical thing. They hadn’t spoken in years, and she probably didn’t remember him anyway. Fate was a cruel mistress, tossing her into his path again when he had other obligations to fulfill. 

Her brown hair was pinned up in a style more appropriate for a ball than a ship, though tendrils were slipping down to frame her face, which drew his eyes to her full lips and her large, round eyes. She was wearing a gown the color of the green rolling hills covered in morning dew. Bloody hell, he was getting poetic again. It was definitely time for him to go home. And he would, as soon as this war was over. 

And then he saw the ropes around her wrists, secured to one of the slats of his bed. Hunter had literally left a woman tied up in Fitz’s bed. No wonder he had looked so gleeful when he sent Fitz in here.

His eyes trailed along the slippered foot, trim ankle and curve of her calf that he could see from where her dress was rucked up.

He shifted his attention back to the woman’s face. She looked like she was ready to spit fire. And then a slipper went flying past his head and he ducked to avoid any further attacks.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded from the bed.

“Are you going to kick your other shoe at me if I don’t answer?” he asked, trying to remain calm.

She seemed to relax at the sound of his voice. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I thought you were like that other...man. The one who tied me up.”

“I’m, ah, I’m Fitz. I’m the captain of The Shield.” He was feeling entirely too distracted by the way the fabric of her dress was stretched taut. The way her arms were stretched over her head pushed her breasts forward further than her dressmaker had ever intended and it was doing things to him that he didn’t quite understand. Well, that wasn’t true. He understood. This was why there weren’t supposed to be any women on a ship. They weren’t bad luck. They were just dangerous.

She let out a sigh and a small laugh. “Oh, thank goodness! I was starting to fear I had made a mistake stowing away after all. That you weren’t who— Well, obviously I didn’t think this plan through all the way. I’m Miss Jemma Simmons,” she said formally and then smiled. It was a bright and sunny smile, and it made him take a step closer to her.

“I was wondering, Captain Fitz, if you would be willing to ravish me now?” She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side, considering him.

Fitz let out a strangled sound and scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping that it would change the scene unfolding in front of him. 

“It’s quite alright. This isn’t my first ravishment. Though, honestly, the last time didn’t go very well, or I wouldn’t have had to stow away because I would already have been properly ruined. But no matter. There is time to rectify that now. And even my mother won’t be able to ignore complete ruination on a smuggler’s ship.”

His day had clearly taken a turn he didn’t understand. Or maybe he was suffering from some sort of heat-induced illness. Though it hadn’t really been a hot day now that he thought about it.

“Excuse me, Miss Simmons.”

Fitz turned and fled back towards the door. But before he could get the door closed her voice floated behind him. “You should call me Jemma if you are going to ravish me.”

He pushed the door closed firmly behind him and sagged against it. Hunter was waiting for him, a smug smile on his face. 

“Done so soon? I expected more out of you, Fitz.”

Fitz just glared at him. “Why in the bloody hell is there a _lady_ tied to my bed?” he hissed, lest any of the crew overhear their conversation.

“A lady? Are you sure?”

“A lady. A bloody English lady,” he confirmed, nodding miserably. “Jemma Simmons.”

“You know the chit?” Hunter asked, uncharacteristically serious.

Fitz rolled his eyes. “She was obviously in town for the Season. No idea how she ended up in Brighton, but it’s a common enough destination for the _ton_.”

“She can’t know what we are doing.”

“I’m aware of that, Hunter,” he said through gritted teeth. “Clandestine government work needs to be kept clandestine.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

Fitz paced for a minute. “We’ll have to take her with us. We are behind schedule already and we can’t risk missing the signal.”

“Right. Then why are you looking so dour?”

“Because she wants me to ruin her.”

Hunter’s loud guffaw made Fitz’s frown deepen. 

“It isn’t funny, Hunter.”

“Maybe she _is_ my type after all. Pity I’m already taken. Shall I break the news to her?”

“Actually, she kicked her slipper at me before she realized I wasn’t you. So maybe she wasn’t as enamored by your charms as you think.”

“So what are you going to do? I can give you some advice—“

“Not that!” Fitz pushed a hand through his hair before shoving it into his pocket. Thankfully his valet wasn’t here. This was the sort of thing Williams despaired over. “I’ll just...just explain it to her. I’m sure she’ll be reasonable.”

“Sure...women are perfectly reasonable,” Hunter grumbled. 

“I think your wife is very reasonable. You’re the one always mucking things up.”

Hunter gave him a wry smile, but didn’t disagree. 

“You should probably go back in there,” Hunter said, gesturing towards the door. 

“I know what I _should_ do. I should take her home and deliver her back to her mother. But what I _have_ to do is keep her out of trouble until we get back to Brighton.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Hunter asked rhetorically before opening the door and giving Fitz a small push over the threshold. 

She was still there. Looking at him expectantly. Which made him very uneasy. 

“I think we should start over, Miss Simmons. I’m Fitz, the captain,” he said straightening up to his full height. “And no one is going to be ruined on my ship.”

She stared back at him, tipping up her chin, before meeting his eye. 

“If you aren’t going to ravish me, do you think you could untie me? This isn’t very comfortable.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

He said the words automatically, but stayed rooted to the spot, thinking about what he needed to say to her. 

“Fitz?” she asked. “Are you alright? If you are feeling unwell I can help you. I have studied quite a bit of human anatomy and medicine.”

The thought of Jemma Simmons and certain parts of his anatomy in the same sentence was enough to put his body in motion. 

“I’m, ah, quite alright. It’s just, well, if I untie you, you’ll need to agree to a few things.”

“Anything.” Her voice was low and it sent goosebumps down the back of his neck. 

He had to remind himself that she didn’t really mean it. Despite her words she must still be quite innocent. The girl he knew all those years ago, even if it was just for a single summer, couldn’t have changed so much. He had only spoken to her for a few moments when they crossed paths three years ago, but she still seemed intelligent, kind, and...innocent. There was probably a great deal more hypothesis behind her plan than actual knowledge. Though he certainly agreed that experimentation was the best way to build a firm foundation of knowledge. 

“Miss Simmons—“

“Jemma,” she interjected. 

“ _Simmons_. Given the fact that we’re already quite far from land, we won’t be able to return you to shore.”

“That isn’t a problem,” she said cheerfully. “I don’t intend to go home until I’m properly ruined. The only thing mother cares about is making a suitable match. And I’d rather be free to research and study, so I’m afraid we’re at a bit of an impasse.”

She paused for breath and then continued, “Besides, from observing my friends’ marriages, it doesn’t seem that acquiring a husband would be conducive to my goals.”

The words just spilled out of her and Fitz found himself nodding as she spoke, mesmerized by the sound of her voice, even though he didn’t find much there he could agree with.

She seemed very comfortable here. Part of him wondered if she did remember him after all. Maybe she was here on purpose. Maybe she chose him. That thought made hope bloom in his chest. The timing was all wrong, but she was so right. 

“Can I ask you how you ended up on this ship?”

“Oh.” She looked away from him and stared at a spot on the wall behind him. “I...well, this was just the first ship that I saw. And really when it comes to finding someone willing to, well… you know, there aren’t that many qualifications.”

“Ah, I see.” So she didn’t recognize him then.

“Where are we going?” she asked, eyes tracking him as he moved closer.

“Calais. Then down the coast.”

The smile fell from her face. “Calais? I’m not even sure my mother will notice I was gone. We’ll practically be home before tea.”

Picking up her slipper from the floor, he moved closer to her, pulling out a knife to cut the ropes. He knew from experience that Hunter could tie devilishly tricky knots.

“The trip will take a couple days at least. We have to travel under the cover of darkness, and we’ll be waiting for...something.”

Once she was free of her bonds, she rubbed at her wrists and then he helped her sit up before kneeling on the floor beside her to slip her errant slipper back on her foot.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked thoughtfully.

“I can’t tell you, so don’t bother trying to figure it out. You also have to stay here, in my cabin where you will be safe, for the duration of the trip.”

He pulled her to her feet so they were standing, facing one another. She was just enough shorter that she had to tip her head up to look him in the eye.

“Do you really think it’s dangerous outside your cabin?”

“I really think there is a ship full of men who would find you very desirable.” He swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of anyone touching her pale skin.

“Except you,” she said quietly.

“I said I wouldn’t ruin you, not that I didn’t desire you.”

Jemma smiled inexplicably at his words. “I knew I was right about you. But I shall probably be ruined once we return home regardless. Several days on a ship full of smugglers, sharing a cabin with the captain. My mother will have vapors for certain and I’ll be packed off to my aunt in Scotland. And it’s unlikely that my absence will have gone unnoticed, so there will be no way to stop the gossip.”

“Which was your plan the whole time,” he deduced. She really was unlike any other woman he had ever met.

“Of course,” she replied quickly, before looking away. “Except…”

“Except what?” he asked, taking her chin in his hand and directing her gaze back to him.

“Except I really was hoping there would be some ravishment.”

The words sat, heavy in the space between them, and Fitz felt his resolve waver. She was entirely too tempting. But then she spoke again.

“Can someone retrieve my reticule? I must have left it behind when I was dragged up here. And I’ll need my book if I’m going to be stuck in here.”

“What book?”

“Principia,” she replied, her tone immediately shifting from the wistful tone of a few moments prior. “In Latin, of course, though sometimes I get stuck on a particularly tricky passage.”

“If you need help with a translation, I can help. I tried to read it in Latin once, but I was far more fascinated by the geometric proofs than anything else.”

He stopped talking when he saw her gaze drop to his lips, then pressed forward, trying to ignore the way her gaze affected him. They were talking about science now, not being flirtatious. “But I thought you said you were interested in anatomy and medicine. Principia is more about physics and mathematics.”

“Well, yes, of course it is, but I’ve found that having an understanding of all the sciences is crucial for making discoveries. If you don’t know where we’ve been, you can’t know where to go next.”

She tilted her face up to him and he started to lean down, caught by the magnetic pull of her lips. He’d never heard anyone talk about science the way she did.

When their lips met, she gave a small sigh, but didn’t do anything to close the distance between them. Their gently sliding lips were the only point of contact. It was maddeningly sensual. In what he immediately recognized as a moment of weakness, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, causing her to reach for his shoulders to steady herself. He knew they needed to stop, but at that moment Jemma licked across his lips and he opened his mouth to her advances. He couldn’t possibly be taking advantage of her if she was the one doing the kissing, right?

Her tongue pressed into his mouth and he was lost to the sweetness of her kiss and her body pressed against him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite shake his conscience. In the eyes of a society matron, after all, there wasn’t any difference between kissing Jemma in his cabin — next to his bed —and bedding her. But he was no longer sure if that was a reason to stop kissing her...or not to stop at kissing. She was a lady — and she was Jemma. She deserved declarations of love and marriage. He didn’t think he’d be very good at seduction, anyway. 

But she was right. She’d be ruined either way. The way she felt in his arms wasn’t making it easy for him to make good decisions.

They must have encountered some unusually rough waters, and Jemma swayed under the motion of the ship, his arms the only thing holding her up. She reached up to steady herself and stroked her hand down his face, her fingertips gently skimming across the stubble on his cheek. 

Their lips separated as he took a shuddering breath. She was flushed a very pretty pink, her eyes were bright, and her lips looked like they’d been thoroughly kissed.

She leaned towards him again and he let her go, taking a step back to put some distance between them before he took leave of his senses once again.

“I’m sorry, Simmons.” He hoped the casual use of her surname would help him remember that she wasn’t his, but he wasn’t sure it was working.

“Why are you sorry?” She was looking steadily at him as he flushed from the images running through his mind, and he rubbed a nervous hand on the back of his neck. 

Not sure what exactly to say, he gestured between them as if that explained the turmoil he was feeling.

“I’m not sorry. It was a lovely kiss.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and watched as he backed away, a small smile tipping up the corners of her lips.

“I’ll send Hunter with your reticule. Try not to throw your slippers at him,” he teased, trying to reestablish his equilibrium. 

Once he reached the door, he fumbled with the knob before finally wrenching it open.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner. Hunter and I usually dine together. You can join us. Just, uh, just let Hunter know if you need anything.”

“Fitz?” she called before he could completely escape. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded at her and then shut the door. He was going to have words with Hunter... and then he’d have to figure out how to survive the night with her in his cabin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up from Jemma's POV and we get to see what she really thinks about all of this...and Fitz.
> 
> A huge thank you to @blancasplayground for helping me figure all of this out. Best. Beta. Ever.
> 
> And if you haven't checked it out yet, make sure to head over to tumblr to see the amazing art that @agentofship made for this fic!

Spending an entire day reading — uninterrupted by morning visitors, afternoon teas, walks in the park, or any sort of social obligation that required her maid to help her change her dress three times in one day — was an unexpected benefit of stowing away. When Jemma had developed this plan for her ruination she hadn’t thought it would be quite so comfortable and peaceful. But now, more than ever, she yearned for someone to discuss her newfound knowledge with. Someone like Fitz. Smart, handsome, and utterly kissable. 

She let out a sigh and set her book down, standing up to stretch her legs. Fitz was just as she remembered him. Though he certainly didn’t seem to remember her. Which was a little disappointing actually. She’d thought she was more memorable than that. 

They had only crossed paths once in the past ten years. She had glimpsed Fitz across a crowded ballroom during her first Season, and she thought she saw a glimmer of recognition when their eyes met. But when they had finally been formally introduced — or reintroduced, really — he had given her a small bow and then returned to his previous endeavors. It has been a great disappointment, as she had already discovered that the men of the _ton_ did not interest her in the slightest. Even though several of her suitors had very symmetrical features, none of them had any interest in discussing the latest scientific breakthroughs with her. And the women were even worse. The young ladies she met were vapid and concerned only for the latest fashions. It had been quite the disappointment that Fitz not only didn’t seem to remember her, but wasn’t interested in her in the slightest. She had resolved to find a way please both her mother and herself by finding a husband she could share her life with in every way. 

But three years later she had come to the realization that it was unlikely that such a man existed. Which was why when she had chosen to lose to virtue she had picked Fitz. He was as close to being perfect as anyone she had ever met. The important thing was that he was smart and kind, a perfect gentleman really. He didn’t spend much time in society, but she had discretely asked about him and found there was no gossip circulating about him. No mistresses or scandals in his past. No outstanding gambling debts.

She was certain she was safe with him. She did have questions about intercourse that she had hoped he’d help her answer. She was familiar with the theory, of course, but didn’t quite understand the application. He had taught her everything he knew about science when they had been children. If she was going to learn about this — and it was nothing but biology after all — she couldn’t think of a better person to teach her. Her friends seemed to be very uninformed and she couldn’t fathom asking her mother again. The first time had led to a great deal of sputtering and her mother’s remonstrations that she didn’t need to know this until she was married and even then all she’d need to do was lie on her back and think of England. Which was clearly ridiculous. There wasn’t any other biological process that was helped along by “thinking of England.” 

But even without getting her questions answered, she’d be compromised as far as polite society was concerned, and that was the goal. She had to remember that. No matter what ridiculous daydreams she had about Fitz or how romantic it would be to be ravished, she knew she was just being a ninny. When she returned home she would have finally done something beyond the pale and then her mother would have to leave her alone with her books and her studies.

Walking the perimeter of the small space, she let her fingers glide across the small shelf that held Fitz’s books. There were the expected tomes on navigation, but also books on engineering, mechanics, and the natural sciences.

A smile came unbidden to her lips and she pulled the English translation of the very book she was reading off the shelf. Well, now she wouldn’t have to bother him over the passages she was struggling with.

She gently flipped through the well-worn pages to find the proper section of the text and a folded paper slid out from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. She stooped to pick it up and dropped it again as if burned. It was clearly a letter and it bore the signature of Philip Coulson. He was supposed to be retired, taken out of the field after injuries sustained during the Battle of Salamanca, but everyone knew he was actually running Britain’s spy network.

So Fitz was a spy? That honestly made more logical sense than him being some sort of privateer or smuggler. A man who read Newton and was interested in science and engineering just _couldn’t_ be looking to profit off this war. He was too noble for that. Well, maybe that last bit might not be entirely scientific, but she still knew it was true. Besides, she _did_ know that Fitz didn’t need to make money from smuggling. His family had more than enough money as it was, and Fitz inherited it, along with the title, upon his father’s death. 

Picking up the letter, she tucked it quickly back into the book. She slid the book back into place, feeling guilt settle over her. He had told her not to ask questions and that her presence here was dangerous. Now she understood why. Though maybe if he confided in her she’d be able to help somehow.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had proper sustenance since teatime yesterday. Fitz and Hunter would be back at some point. When dinner was served, she supposed. And then she’d have to pretend she didn’t know the true reason they were sailing a ship to France in the middle of a war.

Hours later, when Jemma was about to leave the cabin to go searching for Fitz, no matter what she might find outside these walls, there was a knock on the door before Fitz entered with Hunter right behind him. 

Luckily they also brought bread, meat and vegetables baked into a pie, and fruit tarts. She hadn’t been expecting a full selection of food for dinner, but given that they had hardly left England she supposed it shouldn’t be surprising. 

Fitz avoided her gaze, which gave her an opportunity to observe him for the first time since their kiss. Hunter, however, didn’t have the same hesitation. 

“Did you miss me, love?” he said, dropping into the chair next to her at the small table. 

She tossed him an irritated glance that made him laugh. 

“Ah, it was Fitz you missed then.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but knew better than to respond. She hadn’t spent three Seasons on the marriage mart without learning the value of silence when dealing with men. 

“Leave it, Hunter,” Fitz practically growled.

“Hmm...must have touched a nerve there.”

Jemma ignored both of them in favor of partaking in the food set on the table. When she glanced up, Fitz handed her a glass of wine. 

“It’s Madeira,” Fitz said apologetically. “ _Someone_ drank all the claret.”

Hunter held up how hands in surrender. “Guilty,” he said with a smile. 

Jemma sensed an opening to learn more about the situation she now found herself in. “I thought you were smugglers. Shouldn’t you be able to get all the French wine you want?” 

She directed her question toward Hunter but kept her attention on Fitz. He seemed the more likely of the two of them to give something away with his emotions. Or maybe she thought she knew him well enough to sense his discomfort. Either way, she wasn’t disappointed when she saw him flinch slightly. 

Satisfied that she was on the right track she turned back to Hunter and raised her eyebrow. 

“Well, sure, we could get all the fine French wine you could ever want, but we have our sights set on Dracaena borealis and we don’t want to miss her.”

Hunter took a deep drink from his glass and she saw Fitz press his fingers to his forehead from the corner of her eye. 

“But...but Dracaena borealis is native to the Americas,” Jemma finally said, confusion creasing her brow. 

“Yes, she is,” Hunter agreed amicably before grimacing as Fitz’s boot caught him in the ankle. 

She obviously wasn’t going to learn anything from him. She would have to focus her attention on Fitz, which wasn’t that big of a hardship if she was honest with herself. 

“So, Miss Simmons, is it?” Hunter asked. 

She nodded. “Yes. Miss Jemma Simmons, of Sheffield.”

“I hear you’re looking for someone to ruin you.”

On her other side she could hear Fitz groan. Presumably Hunter expected her to back down, but she certainly had no intention of doing that. 

“Yes, I am. Although since I’ve been trapped in this cabin all day I’ve realized that I don’t actually have to find someone willing to engage in intercourse, just someone willing to say they did.” He didn’t respond right away, apparently shocked into silence by her words. But she found that she no longer cared what other people thought so she added, “If it’s just my word, I’m not entirely sure my mother would believe me.”

There was a choking sound from Fitz, yet again. It was getting harder and harder to believe he was affiliated with Coulson, but at the same time she would hate it if it turned out he wasn’t the man she thought he was. 

She narrowed her eyes at Hunter. 

“Would _you_ be willing to say you took my virtue?”

“Well, love, it depends. Do you have brothers?”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “What difference does that make?”

“Cousins? A father? Uncles?”

She nodded slowly, not comprehending. Which was frustrating because she always understood. 

“Well, there’s the rub. I am quite a good shot, if I do say so myself —“

“Which you always do,” Fitz interjected grumpily. 

Hunter raised his glass in acknowledgment of the interruption, but then continued on. “But I don’t fancy pistols at dawn. Not even for someone as charming as you.”

Jemma turned towards Fitz, slightly in shock. While no one of her acquaintance would ever have dared to speak so plainly, she found she really liked it. These men at least weren’t treating her like she was a woman. Obviously. She couldn’t even convince anyone to take her to bed.

“A duel? Really? Do you think it would come to that?”

Fitz swallowed and she watched the way his throat worked. He had clearly spent the day out in the sun. His cravat had loosened around his neck and the sleeves of his muslin shirt were rolled up, exposing the most interesting forearms she had ever seen. 

Her mouth went dry and she wondered if the right words would come to her. Luckily, Hunter saved them. 

“Oh, no. Not him either. He’s a terrible shot and I don’t want to have to avenge his death.”

The words were said offhandedly, but she thought he meant them. It must be nice to have someone to depend on like that. 

“Of course not! I wouldn’t want Fitz to fight a duel.”

“What about me?”

“No, not you either, I suppose,” she admitted grudgingly. 

She finally pulled her eyes away from Fitz and saw that Hunter was smiling at her with a speculative look in his eye. 

“How did a woman, pardon me, _lady_ end up on our ship?”

“Oh...I just needed to get away from the horrible, well, from the engagement I was attending and I saw the ship,” she finished with a slight wince. It hadn’t been the ship she had seen. It had been Fitz. And of course it wasn’t the dancing she’d been trying to escape, but rather her failed seduction of Mr. Philips. Honestly, she’d never imagined it would be so much work to get herself ruined properly. But the holes in her story would have to remain just that. She wasn’t over anxious to share her true motives with Hunter of all people. She wasn’t even sure if that was his given name or his surname. 

“Are you certain?” Hunter’s gaze was amused, as if he could tell she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Of course I am!” she snapped back at him in a tone that would have earned her a stern lecture from her mother. But Hunter looked unperturbed, while Fitz seemed to get more nervous the longer she responded to Hunter’s baiting. 

“Regardless,” Fitz said, finally entering the conversation. “Miss Simmons is our guest. And will remain so until we return to Brighton.”

“How long until we reach our destination?” Jemma directed her question at Fitz, eager to engage him in conversation again. 

“We were waiting off the coast until darkness fell. Now we’ll begin our journey south. We are heading towards Deauville.”

“Only _towards_ Deauville?”

“Only until we see the signal,” Hunter added. 

Fitz must have kicked Hunter under the table again because he straightened up and seemed to be rethinking his words. 

But Jemma didn’t need to pry any more. She knew they were spies. And they were waiting for a signal to do...something. Off the coast of France. 

A well-trained daughter of the _haut ton_ , Jemma redirected the conversation away from any uncomfortable topic and the rest of their meal passed quickly and was much more enjoyable than she could have anticipated. Both Fitz and Hunter — once she had gotten used to his bluntness — were far easier to talk to than the gentlemen in her circles generally were. Yet these men were obviously gentlemen, their current occupation notwithstanding. 

It wasn’t until Hunter stood up to take his leave that a sense of uneasiness settled over her. She would be alone with Fitz. And somehow he was intending for both of them to sleep in the cabin, a space that was starting to feel far more confined than a few minutes prior when it had been filled with the sounds of laughter, and the comforting presence of a third person — a person she did not harbor any lustful feelings for. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, love,” Hunter said, taking her hand and giving a crisp bow over it, as if they were about to take to the dance floor at Almack’s. 

“Remember what we discussed, Fitz.”

Fitz scowled, But Hunter ducked out of the room before he could offer a rejoinder. It made Jemma particularly curious to know what exactly they had discussed, but the expression on Fitz’s face didn’t invite comment. 

“So,” Jemma started, then came to a sudden halt. Nothing she had learned from her governess or chaperones had prepared her for this particular social situation.

“I...I’ll just sleep on the floor.” Fitz started busying himself on the opposite side of the small space.

Jemma bit her lip, considering her options. She didn’t have her night rail, though her chemise should suffice. The problem was the row of buttons on her dress and then the corset that was laced up the back. There was no conceivable way she could reach the buttons and laces on her own. This was a part of her plan that she had not fully considered. 

“Fitz, I hate to impose…”

“You aren’t imposing,” he said quickly.

“It’s just,” she took a steadying breath. “Can you help me with my buttons and corset? I don’t have my ladies maid.” 

She turned her back to him and started counting the seconds before his hands touched her. After a moment’s hesitation, he began to undo the small buttons, slowly moving his hands lower.

“If you loosen the laces of my corset I can undo the rest of it myself.”

Her words were loud in the silence and she felt a shiver go through her as his fingertips grazed the bare skin on her back.

His only response was an exhalation of breath that she felt on her neck. He was entirely too close for comfort, but at the same time she welcomed his touch. A moment later it felt easier to breathe and she knew he had untied the knot holding her laces together. He gave a tug to loosen it enough for her to finish on her own and Jemma crossed her arms over her breasts to hold her dress up as he stepped back.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to get settled.”

She jerked her head in answer and before she could marshal her nerve to turn around and face him she heard the door open and close.

Untying the bow around her waist, she wriggled out of her gown and draped it over one of the chairs. Her maid would have a fit, but she didn’t really see any other options. She couldn’t very well sleep in her petticoats, so she loosened the tapes holding them up, and let them drop to the ground. After tugging her corset loose and taking off her slippers and stockings, she was left in her chemise, which was just as concealing as her night rail and should be more than adequate to sleep in.

The bed wasn’t overlarge, but certainly big enough for her. She slipped between the sheets and practiced slow, even breaths so she could feign sleep when Fitz returned. She found him very tempting and wasn’t at all sure she would be able to carry on a rational conversation with him while only wearing her chemise. 

But eventually her practiced breathing turned to the real peacefulness of sleep, and it wasn’t until she woke up disoriented that she realized she must have fallen asleep waiting for him to return. Eyes wide, she tried to pinpoint the source of her wakefulness. There was a rustling sound to her left and when she sat up in bed she remembered she was on a ship off the coast of France. And Fitz must be in the room with her. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight shining through the mostly covered window, she searched the darkness for Fitz, feeling her tension release when she finally found him.

The rustling continued and she finally understood that he was rolling from his side to his back and then back again, probably in an attempt to get comfortable on the wooden floor.

“Fitz?” she whispered into the dark, afraid that he wouldn't hear her, but also afraid that he would. She silently chastised herself. She would not act cowardly.

“Fitz,” she said louder once it became clear he wouldn’t respond to her first verbal overture. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Simmons. Did I wake you?”

“The sounds on this ship aren’t what I’m used to,” she admitted, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around herself.

“It can take some time to get used to the feel of the waves.”

She smiled even though she knew he couldn’t see her face. He continued to move around on the floor.

“Fitz? I hate that it’s my fault you are sleeping on the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He grunted in response and she heard him moving again. From what she could see when she observed him earlier, he seemed to be all bones and lean muscle. She didn’t imagine he had much extra flesh about him to cushion his body from the floor.

“Why don’t you come sleep in the bed?”

“Simmons...you can’t sleep on the floor.”

“I know. It’s just, well, there is plenty of room in the bed. There is room for both of us.”

He didn’t respond right away and she cursed herself for being impulsive. She prided herself on _never_ being impulsive. But then she heard him moving towards her and she scooted down in the bed again and turned towards the wall.

“If we just stay to the sides of the bed, it should be alright.”

She felt the mattress shift as he settled onto the bed. Not exactly beside her, but certainly closer than she’d ever been in a bed with another person.

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she said quietly.

“Goodnight, Simmons.”

She smiled at his use of her surname. It felt much more intimate than “Miss Simmons” but still strangely formal for two people who were sleeping in the same bed. Pondering what that meant, she fell asleep for the second time that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Fitz's POV. Fitz and Hunter complete their mission and Jemma and Fitz get just a little bit closer.
> 
> A huge thank you to @blancasplayground for helping me figure all of this out. Best. Beta. Ever.
> 
> And if you haven't checked it out yet, make sure to head over to tumblr to see the amazing art that @agentofship made for this fic!

Fitz woke to the sun streaking through the window, feeling a deep sense of contentedness. Which was odd because he was pretending to be a smuggler and he had a stowaway on his ship. No, that wasn’t right. He had a stowaway in his bed.

She let out a small sound and he realized it wasn’t the sun that had woken him, but the warm weight in his arms moving from sleep to wakefulness. She shifted and his hand brushed over her breast. Bloody hell, had he been touching her in his sleep?

At some point in the night they must have moved closer together, because she was now on his side of the bed and he was laying with his chest firmly against her back. She moved her hips, though from the way she pressed closer to him he couldn’t be sure if she was trying to get out of the bed or tempting him to stay in bed with her. She hadn’t exactly been subtle about her desire to be ravished. And by him of all people. She really made him want to, and having her here made it harder for him to remember why it was a bad idea.

He’d already decided to propose to her once he had fulfilled his obligations to the crown. She would be ruined when she returned to England, and even if they didn’t actually do anything to necessitate a wedding, that wouldn’t matter to her parents...or her aunt and uncle. And he didn’t fancy having his nearest neighbor holding a grudge against him.

She might take a bit of convincing, but once he laid it out logically, he was reasonably certain she would agree. He could give Jemma all the freedom she wanted if she agreed to marry him. Freedom she would never even have as a spinster, if she somehow managed to avoid marriage entirely. And if she wanted to be married in truth, then he wouldn’t object to that either. His thoughts spinning out of control, he found he couldn’t make his body move. Jemma beside him, both of them warm from sleep, was more potent than any wine and his hand moved of its own accord towards her hip.

“Fitz.” Her voice was breathy and mesmerizing. She shifted her hips again and pressed her bottom against his hardening cock.

“Jemma,” he hissed, jerking his arm away from her and rolling away. Only to promptly fall on the floor with a thud.

Once he was certain he hadn’t done anything more than bruise his ego—honestly what sort of man fell out of the bed as soon as a beautiful woman touched him?—he laid his head back, sucking in breaths of cool air.

“Fitz! Are you alright?” Jemma was scrambling off the bed and coming towards him. He closed his eyes and groaned. The fabric of her chemise didn’t do much to hide the shape of her body.

“Did you hit your head?” She fussed over him, running her fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes to answer her and found his field of vision filled with a view of her breasts pressed close to his face, a hint of pink nipples framed by her gaping chemise.

He groaned again. She was going to be the death of him.

The door opened, slamming against the opposite wall, and Hunter rushed in, pistol drawn.

“Fitz, what happened? I heard a scream and a crash.”

Hunter’s eyes swept the room and Fitz sat up, pushing Jemma behind him. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his shoulders and she pressed her face into his neck. Her skin felt hot and he thanked his lucky stars that she wasn’t missish or prone to hysterics.

“Nothing happened. I just, ah, fell out of the bed.”

“Fell out of the bed?” Hunter repeated, eyes wide.

Fitz knew how it looked, Jemma in her chemise and him in nothing but his shirt and small clothes.

“Yes.” he gritted his teeth. This was embarrassing, mostly because he could feel Jemma still clinging to him. The fact that she didn’t want Hunter to see her, but didn’t mind if he did, made him absurdly happy. “So, it would probably be best if you cleared off now.”

Hunter lowered his pistol and winked. “I knew you had it in you, Fitz.” Then, louder, he called, “Miss Simmons, do I need to defend your honor?”

Jemma raised her head and said as calmly as if she were in a drawing room rather than half-naked in Fitz’s cabin, “Thank you, but no. I’m quite well.”

“I’ll just wait outside, then.” With that, Hunter took his leave, and the two of them were alone again.

Once Hunter shut the door, Jemma released him. They were both still on the floor, so Fitz quickly stood and offered her a hand, doing his best to keep his gaze on her face. Which was surprisingly easy since it meant he could stare into her eyes.

“We should, ah, get dressed before Hunter decides to come back in here.” He reached for his trousers and turned away from her to give her some privacy.

He heard rustling which he assumed was due to her putting her layers of clothing back on. After all the skin he had seen and touched since waking, he needed more clothing between them.

“Fitz?”

He turned automatically towards the sound of her voice and realized she had turned her back to him again. She was at least wearing petticoats and her unlaced corset now, which was a slight improvement.

“Can you help me with my laces?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Fitz’s hands moved clumsily, his fingers more uncoordinated than they had ever been. He didn’t have any experience with corsets, but he thought he remembered from the night before how it had been laced.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were low and sounded a little sad.

“Why are _you_ sorry, Simmons?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you and make you fall out of bed. It just felt...nice.”

He gently pulled the laces, trying to focus on the task in front of him.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I was just having some thoughts that weren’t very gentlemanly. There you are.” He secured her corset with a knot he’d learned from Hunter. One he knew how to undo.

Jemma turned to face him with a brilliant smile and he quickly dropped his hands. Without her dress to offer a bit of modesty, her corset displayed her body in a way that Fitz’s body immediately started reacting to.

“Jemma…”

He quickly reached for her dress, thrusting it at her, and her mouth dropped open into an “o” of surprise.

“Here, put this on and I’ll do up your buttons.”

Once she was decent again, he pulled on his boots and waistcoat before opening the door to let Hunter in. Jemma had opened her book and was studiously ignoring them, but just beyond her he could see the rumpled bed coverings, which drew his mind to more pleasurable possibilities.

“We made it far enough down the coast before dawn that we should reach our destination tonight,” Hunter reported.

“And we’re out of sight for now?”

“Aye, Captain,” Hunter agreed with a mocking salute. “Not much to do now. I’m going to get rested for tonight. I’m going to need my energy once we find her. ”

Hunter gave Fitz a wink and left as quickly as he had appeared. Fitz looked warily towards Jemma. She was smart. Brilliant even. And Hunter was hardly being covert. He had all but said they were meeting a woman tonight.

“If you want to say something, Fitz, go ahead. The way you are staring at me is rather unnerving.”

“No...well, it’s just that tonight Hunter and I will be going ashore—“

“Because you’re smugglers.”

“No! I mean yes. Yes, because we are smugglers.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look. He felt his face flush and tried not to look away.

She let out a long sigh. “I know you aren’t smugglers.”

Fitz tensed and took a step closer to her. If she knew who they were she could endanger their whole mission. He was also a little disappointed that she might not be who he thought she was. Could she be working for France? That didn’t seem likely, but he didn’t really know her. Who she was now.

“Why would you say that?” His voice was harsher than he intended and she stood up, stepping back from him.

“I saw the letter.” Her voice wavered a bit and he saw her eyes dart around the room. “From Coulson. I think you are very brave.”

“Were you looking through my things?” He continued to move closer, backing her up to the wall furthest from the door. It would be embarrassing if he had to call for Hunter.

“I would never!” She took another step back and ended up with her back pressed against the wall. “It was in your copy of _Principia_. I didn’t want to bother you with the translations.”

That made him hesitate. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Whoever Dracaena borealis is, she’s lucky to have you.”

Jemma’s eyes were wide and she licked her lips.

Fitz realized he had her pressed against the wall and stepped back in shame. He had been using his slightly larger frame to intimidate her and now all he could think about kissing her again.

“Wait...what? She doesn’t have me. She has Hunter.”

“Oh.”

“She’s his wife.”

“Oh.”

“I should...go.”

“Maybe not just yet.” And then she pressed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

 

* * *

 

When the sun sank below the horizon, Fitz and Hunter joined Jemma in the captain’s cabin.

“Jemma, I mean, Simmons,” Fitz amended, shooting a glance towards Hunter. After the kisses he had shared with her earlier in the day it was hard to think of her as anything other than Jemma. Her kisses had started gentle and teasing, but when he stepped into her embrace she had been trapped between his body and the wall, and her happy sounds had made him believe she enjoyed it as much as he had.

The smile she gave him in the pause before he started speaking again made him think she was remembering the same thing he was and he rubbed a hand against his forehead, thinking about how her body had felt against his. “The crew really is a smuggler’s crew. We just hired them so there was someone here who actually knew how to sail a ship. So keep the door locked while we’re gone.”

“How long will you be gone?”

Fitz frowned and turned to Hunter. “Hunter thinks he saw the signal, so we will be gone long enough to row to shore and see if she is there.”

“And _she_ is Dracaena borealis?”

“Barbara Morse. Bobbi. Or, as I like to call her, Viscountess Hunter. Britain’s best spy...even though she’s American,” Hunter interjected, examining the pistol in his hand before handing it to Fitz.

“ _If_ she is there, we shouldn’t be gone long.”

“She’ll be there,” Hunter insisted.

“You don’t think she’ll be there?” Jemma asked, turning towards him.

“I hope she is,” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I just think we need to remember it could be a trap.”

“Are you ready, Fitz? We should go.”

Letting go of Jemma’s hand, Fitz followed Hunter to the door.

“Be careful!” Jemma called. “Both of you.”

They rowed silently towards the spot where they had seen the lantern signal, careful not to disrupt the calm waters. Neither of them said a word as Fitz dragged the rowboat onto shore and Hunter’s eyes swept the foliage along the shore searching for Bobbi.

“This way,” Hunter said quietly, gesturing with his pistol.

They crept through the darkness, listening for any sign that they were about to fall into a trap. It was eerily silent with the only sound coming from the waves crashing on the shore. The faint smell of gunpowder in the air and the distinct lack of the sounds of wildlife a further indication that something wasn’t right.

Fitz heard the sharp intake of Hunter’s breath before he saw the body near the rocks.

“Bobbi!” Hunter ran towards her, with no care for the fact that there could be someone else within hearing distance. But when the outburst didn’t seem to attract any attention, Fitz dropped to Bobbi’s side as well, tucking his pistol into his trousers so it was close enough to reach if he needed it.

Hunter was pouring something — strong alcohol most likely— into Bobbi’s mouth from the flask he carried. Her eyes were open, but she was pale, and Fitz scanned her body for injuries.

“L-leg,” she stuttered, obviously weaker than Fitz had ever seen her. Which was disconcerting in a way Fitz hadn’t expected. Bobbi was strong, invincible even, and seeing her like this was a reminder of what all of them were risking. Even Jemma, though she hadn’t done it on purpose.

Fitz tugged at the trousers Bobbi was wearing and saw blood seeping from a jagged looking wound. He wasn’t sure how long she had been there or how much blood she had lost, but it didn’t look good.

“Hold on, Bob. We’ll get you back to the ship.” Hunter’s voice was full of fear even as he made an obvious effort to stay calm.

Bobbi didn’t respond, but allowed the two men to hold her up and help her back to the rowboat. Fitz looked uneasily at Hunter as he rowed back to the ship as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure what Hunter would do if anything happened to Bobbi.

“Jemma!” Fitz exclaimed.

“What? No, this is Bobbi.”

“Jemma can help. She said she studied biology and medicine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure of what? That she can be trusted? That she will want to help?”

Hunter looked grave.

“Yes, I trust her.” Hunter didn’t look convinced, so he added, “We don’t really have a choice, Hunter.”

As soon as they returned to the ship, Fitz took off running towards his cabin.

“Jemma! We’re back.”

The door opened almost before the words were out of his mouth and Jemma threw herself into his arms. He let his hands settle on her hips for just a moment, taking comfort from her.

“Bobbi’s injured. Can you help her?”

Jemma looked up at him, concern in her eye.

“I can try. Where is she?”

“Hunter is taking her to his cabin.”

Sweeping past him in her ball gown, Jemma looked like a princess, but he also trusted in her intelligence and judgement.

“Find me whatever supplies you have onboard. And bring some rum as well.”

She was calm and she radiated confidence, which helped him stay calm as well. He gathered everything he thought would be useful and hurried to Hunter’s cabin, arriving in time to see Hunter helping Bobbi into the bed while Jemma cut open the trouser leg.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” he heard Jemma saying to herself. Then, louder, she added, “I need a strip of fabric...or something I can tie around her leg.”

Fitz came closer in order to put the supplies he had found close enough for Jemma to reach, but the sight of torn skin and the blood already on Jemma’s hands made his stomach lurch.

She gave him half a smile and he backed towards the door.

“What’s the rum for?” Hunter asked, looking like he could use a drink.

“It’s for her. Some to drink to dull the pain and some to clean the wound.”

Jemma moved around, arranging everything she needed. “Hunter,” she said gently, “I need you to hold her steady. I don’t know if there is anything inside the wound and I’ll need to look.”

Jemma looked towards him and Fitz gave her an encouraging smile before slipping out the door. He didn’t do well around blood and he didn’t think emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor would be helpful.

He waited impatiently on the deck of the ship, pacing back and forth and occasionally giving an order to speed their return to Brighton now that they had retrieved their cargo.

After far too long for his liking, the door opened and he let out an audible sound of displeasure as Hunter came out.

“Sorry to disappoint, Fitz. I know I’m not your ladylove, but I thought our friendship still meant something.”

“Don’t call her that,” he said with a scowl. “How’s Bobbi?”

“You were right about Miss Simmons. I don’t think I’ve seen a doctor that could have done a better job. She cleaned the wound and stitched her up.”

“Where is Jem- ah, Simmons now?” Fitz tried to peer around Hunter, but he didn’t see her.

“Bobbi is awake and Simmons is getting her settled,” Hunter said with a smirk. “I think she’s going to be alright, thanks to that bloody clever baggage.”

“Don’t _call_ her that. We owe her Bobbi’s life.”

“Word of advice, mate. Don’t let that chit distract you.”

“Hunter--”

“Listen, I’ve been where you are. It’s one thing if it’s a bit of fun, but you hardly know her. You don’t want to end up married--”

“Hunter! Just stop. I’m not you. And she isn’t trying to--”

“I’m just saying, be careful--”

“Jemma!”

She appeared just as he was wondering how he could possibly get Hunter to stop talking. He really didn’t want to talk about Hunter’s marriage. He and Jemma weren’t anything like Hunter and Bobbi. And Jemma hadn’t mentioned marriage once. In fact her entire plan hinged on the fact that once she returned home her mother would no longer be able to arrange a suitable marriage for her. So there was no way she was trying to trap him.

She turned to Hunter. “She is asking for you. I don’t think there is anything more I can do, but let me know if she worsens. I need to clean up.”

Jemma turned to go back into Fitz’s cabin and Fitz stared after her, mesmerized, before turning back to Hunter. Hunter just rolled his eyes before giving Fitz a shove to encourage him to follow after her. Like he had any other choice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jemma is upset after saving Bobbi. Fitz does his best to make her feel better. (and in case anyone was wondering...yes, this is the chapter you were waiting for)
> 
> A big thank you to @blancasplayground for all the help and encouragement.

Jemma made it back to the solace of Fitz’s cabin before her hands started to shake. She had wondered when the nervous energy would start to wear off. Pouring water from the pitcher on the stand, she tried to scrub at the blood on her hands. The blood staining her dress would never come out. Not that she cared. It was just one of the things she noticed, the world around her more colorful and vibrant than usual. 

She kept scrubbing until her hands felt raw and tears blurred her vision. She didn’t notice the moment that Fitz pulled her into his arms, only that he must have done so because she was leaning against his solid form and breathing in his familiar scent. How strange that he had become more familiar and comforting in the past two days than the life she had known for 21 years. 

“Jemma,” he murmured, his hands stroking up and down her back as the tears started to fall. “You were incredible. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

She hiccuped and shook her head against his shoulder.

“You are. We would have been lost today without you. And Bobbi… Well, I’m really grateful.”

Standing in Fitz’s embrace it felt like something was squeezing her heart. 

“It was so much harder than I thought it would be. Nothing I read prepared me for that. For having a person in front of me who could live or die because of what I did.”

His arms tightened around her and she leaned into him, winding her arms around his neck to get even closer. She didn’t want there to be any space between them. Not anymore. His hand continued to rub up and down her back in a soothing pattern, but his touch made sparks leap from her skin.

“You need to rest,” he said soothingly. His accent made the words sound melodic, and when he tried to lead her towards the bed, she wanted to follow him. But she knew he was going to leave if she agreed to rest. 

“Don’t leave,” she insisted, before taking a step.

He stopped and looked into her eyes and she felt like he was seeing every thought in her head. 

“I want…”

“What do you want, Jemma?” His voice was low and urgent. She hoped they both wanted the same thing.

“I just want you.”

And then before he could stop her, she kissed him. The kisses they had shared before were more hesitant and gentle. With this kiss she wanted to claim him. They could only belong to each other until they returned to shore. She had no intention of trapping him into a marriage he didn’t want. And what they did now wouldn’t change the fact that she had stowed away on a smuggler’s ship and spent the night in his bed. If she was going to be exiled from polite society, she should at least be rewarded with the knowledge of what it felt like to be with him. 

She felt desperate and needy, moaning against his lips when his hand dropped to her bottom to drag her closer to him. 

“Please, Fitz. I need you.”

She kissed him hungrily and when his tongue thrust into her mouth she knew he had made his decision. 

He wore a black coat over his shirt and waistcoat, meant to better conceal him in the darkness. But to her all it meant was another layer of clothing between them. Without ending the kiss, she pushed it off his shoulders and tugged at the sleeves. 

He shrugged out of his jacket and then pressed his lips more firmly to hers, placing his hands on her cheeks. 

She didn’t want to feel trapped, or ignored, or helpless anymore. She wanted to feel this. The fire that burned through her when they kissed. The way his hands touched her so gently. The need to feel more, to feel everything. To be joined to him, just this one time. 

Fitz’s hands moved down her neck and around her back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and finally landed just above the small buttons of her dress. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, fingers resting lightly on her back. 

“Yes...of course, yes.”

She kissed his jaw and down his neck as far as she could before his cravat impeded her progress. 

She let out a frustrated whimper and Fitz laughed, letting out a warm breath against her ear as he continued to trace his fingers over her bare skin. 

Jemma pulled at his sloppily tied cravat—clandestine work for the crown didn’t require the same fashion as a ballroom after all—until it untied. Letting it drop to the ground, she kissed her way down his neck, experimentally licking and nipping as she went. 

She smiled in triumph when he moaned in response as she found a sensitive spot on his neck and returned over and over to kiss him there. 

“Does that feel good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Do it to me?”

Jemma tilted her head to the side to expose her neck. Fitz didn’t move right away, just looked back at her, eyes slightly unfocused. When he finally moved he used one hand to tuck her hair back while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her in place against him. She wasn’t about to leave, but it felt nice to be so close to him, regardless. 

Instead of kissing her neck like she expected, he placed his free hand on her shoulder and brushed his lips behind her ear, like he was trying to taste her skin, before letting out a groan and kissing his way down. She reveled in the sensation of feeling treasured as he touched her so gently. And then his lips grazed a sensitive spot on her shoulder and she moaned, letting her head fall back as he laved her heated skin with his tongue. He sucked gently at the skin and she let out a squeak as she felt a sharp tug and then his tongue smoothed over the spot, making heat spread through her and her breath come fast. He didn’t seem in control of his actions anymore, just chasing his desires, and she felt a surge of tenderness almost as strong as the lust coursing through her.

Fitz let his forehead drop to her shoulder as he sucked in unsteady breaths. Jemma took the reprieve from his mouth on her to turn around. 

“Help me out of my dress?”

Fitz was silent for a moment and she twisted her neck to look back at him impatiently. 

“I’ve never done this before, Jemma.”

“Nonsense. You helped me out of my dress and corset last night.”

“Not that part. The...well, the rest of it.”

She could see the blush creep over his face and found it rather endearing. She turned to face him, reaching out to touch his cheek. 

“I haven’t either. You are familiar with the theory, though?”

He brought a hand up to her wrist and turned his head to kiss her palm, sending a tingle of awareness through her. 

“Yes, I, ah, believe I know how to proceed.”

“I’m certain we’ll be able to muddle through,” she said, turning her back to him again. She was gratified when his fingers started working the small buttons open. Once he had finished, she let the dress pool on the floor and turned her attention to her petticoats while Fitz undid the laces of her corset. She wanted to be back in his arms as quickly as possible and these layers of clothes were just a barrier. 

Once she was free of her corset she turned to face him clad only in her thin chemise. She watched his eyes drift down her body and smiled when he looked into her eyes again. She was too impatient to wait for him to move closer so she wrapped her arms around him again and kissed his lips while tugging his shirt free from his trousers. 

Running her fingertips over his taut stomach, she pushed his shirt up, eager to explore more of him. He took over removing his shirt and she kissed his chest, running her tongue over his flat nipples before trying to kiss down his stomach. 

Fitz rested a hand in her hair and held still under her exploration until she reached for his trousers. 

“Jemma...maybe we should, ah...bed?”

“The bed?” She darted her eyes toward the bed. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea.”

She rose from where she was kneeling and pulled him towards the bed. “Should I take off my chemise now? It might be helpful if you are going to —“

“Yes!” he interrupted, and she smiled at how eager he was for her to stop talking and not finish that thought out loud. “Yes...but let me.”

The way he was looking at her made it hard to breathe, so she nodded and waited in front of him as he rested a hard on her bare shoulder. But then he got down to his knees and kissed her knee, grasping the hem of her chemise. Pushing it up inch by inch he kissed up her thigh, making her gasp in pleasure as the stubble on his face rubbed against her sensitive skin, before repeating the process on her other leg. 

Jemma reached her hands down to rest on his shoulders to steady herself. She hadn’t anticipated intercourse involving this sort of kissing, but it was lovely. She knew Fitz had been the right choice. Closing her eyes she let out a low moan as his fingers moved up to the curls at the apex of her thighs. 

“I usually make circles with my fingers,” she instructed. 

It took her a moment to realize that his hand had stilled and she opened her eyes to look down at him.

“You, ah, you...touch yourself?”

Furrowing her brow, she frowned at him. “Of course. How else would I experience _la petite mort_? Don’t you?”

“That isn’t really the kind of question —“

“Fitz —“

“Yes, yes of course.” His fingers started moving again and she let out a sigh. “I just didn’t think ladies —“

“I think we’ve already established that I have no interest in being that sort of lady.” She was happy she finished her pronouncement because then Fitz’s fingers moved over her folds and she wasn’t certain she’d ever be able to form words again. 

But he didn’t linger, and continued to push her chemise higher as his fingers traced over her hips and then his hands gripped her bottom, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her stomach and up her ribs.

Jemma was lost in sensation, grateful for Fitz’s hands on her body since he was sure to catch her if her muscles gave out entirely. Once he reached her breasts, he weighed them in his hands, letting his thumbs move over her skin. 

“Oh, Fitz. That’s...that’s…” But she didn’t know what it was. She didn’t have to words to describe how he was making her feel. But she knew she wanted more. More of this feeling. More of him. All of him. 

And she was about to tell him that too, but his mouth descended on her and he kissed the tops of her breasts before letting his tongue slide across her nipple. 

“Oh, oh!” A line of desire burned straight from where his lips were claiming her flesh down to the little nub of pleasure between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together to try to get some relief from the pulsing need she felt for him. 

Fitz transferred his attention to her other breast and she lowered her hands to the fall of his trousers. This time he didn’t stop her as her hands went to the buttons before pushing down his trousers and small clothes. 

He growled around her nipple when she reached for him, letting her hands encircle his hard length. She hadn’t imagined his skin would feel so silky and smooth and be so rigid beneath. She moved her hand slowly up and down and let out a low moan when he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. 

“Fitz, I didn’t…oh, Fitz.”

She tightened her hand as her clitoris throbbed insistently and he released her nipple to the cool air of the cabin. She felt oversensitized and so alive, desire and excitement racing along every nerve in her body. 

Fitz groaned and placed a hand over hers, entwining their fingers and bringing them to his chest. 

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to ruin you properly.” The words were spoken matter-of-factly, but the look in his blue eyes was intense and she could sense the depths of emotion behind it. 

She pressed messy kisses to his jaw and cheeks until he caught her lips again, holding her tightly to him and plundering her mouth. It felt like he was trying to possess her entirely, and his erection, pressed firmly against her stomach, reminded her exactly how she wanted to be possessed tonight. 

She took small steps, pushing him back towards the bed while they kissed, until he was seated on the edge of the bed. Rather than toppling down over him, she straddled one leg, pulling off his boot and tossing it to the side, before repeating the process on the other leg. 

He raised his eyebrows at her as he watched her. 

“Jemma —“

“I want you inside me. But I also want to see you without your clothes on...so I’m trying to be efficient.”

As soon as his boots were off she pulled his trousers the rest of the way down, dropping to her knees to tug them off his feet. Task completed, she looked up at him. Seeing he was studying her, she dropped her gaze down to his cock and moved between his spread thighs to get a better look. 

She slid her hands over the tops of his thighs and took in the way that his muscles jumped under her hands. 

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

“Jemma,” he practically groaned her name.

“Fitz,” she responded. “I want to know. And I want you to show me.”

“Um, ah, just how you were doing it earlier. Except faster.”

She wrapped a hand around him again and moved her hand up and down, enjoying the sounds spilling from his mouth. If she had known intercourse was so enjoyable, she would have endeavored to do it years ago. 

Indecipherable words spilled from his mouth, his accent getting thicker with his arousal, and Jemma thought she had never heard a more wonderful sound. 

Moisture formed on the tip of his erection and she leaned forward, swiping her tongue out to taste him. 

“Bloody hell, Jemma.” His words were shocked and she released him, sitting back in her heels. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, confused. He had seemed to be liking it. 

“No!” Then gentler, “No, not wrong. Just too right.”

He reached for her, pulling her to her feet before pressing his lips to hers. But with her standing and him sitting on the edge of the bed, she had to lean over uncomfortably in order to reach him, so she straddled his lap, a knee on each side of him, and melted into the kiss. 

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Fitz looked startled, like he hadn’t noticed they were naked on his bed and his cock was rubbing against her, setting off small shocks every time they moved. 

She smiled at him. “Of course I’m sure. Should we just do it here? Or do you think we need to lay down? I believe that is customary.”

“Here?”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.” She pushed herself up on her knees and reached down to position him at her entrance. His hands wrapped around her hips and steadied her as she slowly lowered herself down. 

He sucked in a breath. “God, Jemma, you feel amazing.”

She wriggled her hips to adjust the angle and took a deep breath before letting herself slide down further. She felt a pinch and a slight burn when her maidenhead was breached. Fitz must have noticed her discomfort because he froze and then kissed her gently on the forehead. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, his arms wrapping around her tucking her head into his shoulder. 

“No!” she said into his shoulder, shaking her head back and forth. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She moved her hips slightly to demonstrate and the slide of their bodies brought on a fresh wave of desire. 

She moved experimentally, changing the angle and the height of her movements, until she found a rhythm that made Fitz shiver and moan. His hands were everywhere. On her back and hips, tugging at her nipples, and finally dropping between their joined bodies. He hadn’t needed any further instructions on how to touch her. 

She planted her hands on his shoulders and used the leverage to move up and down, bringing them both closer to the pinnacle. 

His hips bucked up against her when their movements became more erratic and she cried his name as pleasure started to overtake her. He reached for her, pulling her lips to his again to muffle her cries as her body convulsed. Her muscles tensed and released and she lost the pace of her movements, letting Fitz thrust up inside her as her body went boneless. The continued pressure on her clitoris and the way he filled her so perfectly brought her to a second, smaller climax as Fitz said her name over and over as he spilled his seed inside her. 

She couldn’t think, or breathe, or do anything except feel. She never wanted to go back. She wanted to live in this moment forever, with Fitz holding her and the memory of their lovemaking the only thought in her mind. 

After a moment, Fitz lay back on the bed pulling her with him. They rolled to their sides and kissed in the darkness until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Right before she drifted off she whispered the words that had been desperately trying to escape her lips all night. 

“I love you, Fitz.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has been reading along. You are the best! 
> 
> This last chapter is from Fitz's POV. He isn't quite ready to let Jemma go, but it seems like the universe has other plans. 
> 
> As always, I want to thank @blancasplayground. None of this would happen without her.

Fitz woke up with Jemma in his arms for the second day in a row. And this time, rather than falling out of the bed, he kissed the back of her neck while she snuggled against him. When they neared the port he unwillingly left her to tend to his responsibilities as captain.

She watched him dress, like she was studying him and cataloging his movements. He felt slightly embarrassed, even though it felt like he had bared his entire soul to her the night before. He leaned down to give her a kiss before leaving the cabin, and smiled when the sheet that was covering her dropped to her waist when she raised her arms to pull him closer.

“It should only take a few hours to get everything settled and make sure the crew is taken care of. And then I’ll be back so we can talk about what happens next.”

A small frown pulled down the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t comment, and he slipped out of the cabin to finish his work as quickly as he could.

He avoided Hunter as long as possible, knowing the grin on his face would give him away as soon as he saw his friend. But several hours later it was unavoidable. He wanted to unload their “cargo” as quickly as possible so he could get back to Jemma. He hoped she’d be willing to accept his proposal and then he’d take her back to her family so he could speak to her father about the marriage settlement. Not that he gave a fig for her dowry. But she’d be safe on his estate, and free to research, which was what she had wanted all along. And hopefully he’d have enough time to take her there himself before his next mission for Coulson.

“Where’s Jemma?” he asked Bobbi and Hunter after the ship had been unloaded and the crew paid for their efforts.

“Oh, it’s Jemma now, is it?” Hunter asked, with a glance towards Bobbi.

Fitz shifted his gaze to Bobbi, hoping she’d be more helpful. “Fitz, she stopped by earlier to check on me...and to say goodbye.

“Goodbye?”

“It means she isn’t coming back,” Hunter said gently.

“I know what it means,” he snapped. Then taking a deep breath continued, “I’m sorry. This has just been a, ah, difficult mission.”

Bobbi reached out a hand to pat him on the arm. She looked better, but given the fact that she was still laying in bed and not already on her way to London, her injury must be every bit as bad as they suspected.

“She said she was going to leave you a note. Maybe that will help.”

Fitz walked back to his cabin, more than ready to be done with this ship, with this mission, with this war. He finally found her note slipped between the pages of _Principia_.

_My dearest Fitz,_

_I couldn’t say goodbye to you in person, because that seemed like too difficult of a thing to have to do. I wanted to tell you that you needn’t fear an unwanted marriage. Even though I know you to be a noble man, it was never my intention to trap you._

_I borrowed some of your clothes. I daresay my bloodstained evening gown would have led to more of a scandal than I had originally intended. I will find a way to return them to you somehow._

_I hope for Bobbi’s speedy recovery, and for you to find all the happiness you deserve. I will never forget you, Leopold Fitz._

_Yours always,_  
_Jemma_

There were a few places that looked like the paper was tear-stained and Fitz wasn’t entirely sure he understood. He had very clearly heard her words the night before. And if she loved him, then there was no reason they shouldn’t be together. Unless she really didn’t want him for a husband.

There was nothing for it. He’d have to go find her. She was amazing and perfect for him, and he’d thought she had felt the same thing he did the night before -- the force between them that made him feel like everything in the world was better because she was in it. He loved her. That was obvious now. He wished he had gotten a chance to tell her. He needed to see her at least one more time. To know for sure why she left. If her objection to marrying him was that she thought he’d feel trapped or that marriage to her was something he didn’t want, then he needed a chance to explain. He didn’t want to be noble, he just wanted her. If her objection was to marriage in general, or she just didn’t want to be with him, then he supposed he’d find a way to live with that too.

Once he got off this bloody ship he’d look for her in Brighton. And if he couldn’t find her there then he’d just wait for her at her uncle's estate. As long as she did get sent to live with her aunt and uncle once her mother deemed her really and truly disgraced, then he’d know right where to find her.

He went back to Hunter’s cabin to let Bobbi and Hunter know his plan and was surprised to find them embracing, Bobbi’s wedding ring back around her finger.

“So, you two are back together again, then?” he asked, with a chuckle. Even the urgency of his need to find Jemma couldn’t dull the happiness he felt for his friends.

“Hunter is reckless and makes bad decisions,” Bobbi stated.

Fitz nodded in agreement. “Of course he does. So why are you with him?”

“Bobbi thinks I need an heir to inherit my title in the case of my untimely death, and she has agreed to help me.”

“I did not need to hear that,” Fitz said with a scowl.

“And _we_ didn’t need to hear you and your inamorata last night either. But I’m not going to be able to unhear that.” Hunter looked pointedly at Fitz.

Fitz coughed and his face flooded with heat.

“Just ignore him,” Bobbi suggested. “She seemed like a really lovely girl.”

“She is.” Fitz straightened. “Which is why I need to go find her as soon as possible.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Hunter said loudly before Fitz could share his plan. “You need to go to London and take the information Bobbi gathered to Coulson. She can’t go herself.”

“What about you?”

“I have to stay with my wife.”

Fitz wanted to yell at Hunter, but it was pointless. Bobbi was weak and injured. Hunter needed to stay with her, especially if they were back together again. Being in residence with her would lend the proper amount of respectability they needed in order to continue moving about in polite society.

And he thought it was unlikely that Jemma would marry someone else in the next few weeks before he had a chance to find her and talk to her. He just needed to know...needed to hear her say the words herself. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

He took the packet from Bobbi, doing his best to ignore the blood staining the paper, and immediately started calculating how long it would be before he could see Jemma again. A week to get to London and deliver the information. And at least another week to get to his estate. He would have to stop there first if he didn’t want to propose to her when he was travel-weary and smelled like a horse. And that was if she was even with her aunt. But he’d worry about that later.

A fortnight. Two weeks until he’d be able to hold Jemma in his arms again. If she’d have him.

_Eight Weeks Later_

Fitz cursed the bloody war, Coulson, Napoleon, and even Wellington — though after Waterloo Wellington was such a well-known war hero that Fitz tried not to curse him where anyone else could hear. With all the intelligence coming in related to Waterloo, Napoleon’s movements, and the end of the war, Coulson hadn’t been able to spare Fitz, even though he was sorely out of his depth, and he hadn’t been able to leave London until a week ago. A fortnight had turned into two bloody months.

But now he was home, and his servants had been able to tell him that a young lady had taken up residence at the neighboring estate, though there was no taint of scandal associated with her arrival. Deciding to walk to give him time to calm his nerves, he made his way to the manor house nearest his own. It was a lengthy walk, but it gave him time to think of what to say to her. He doubted she’d be swayed by flowery words or declarations of love. She preferred logic and reason. But he wasn’t leaving without hearing how she felt.

The benefit of walking was that he didn’t have to announce himself when he arrived at the house. He wanted to check the back garden for her before he approached from the front of the house. He didn’t want to cede the advantage to her aunt and uncle. Huh. He was picking up on military strategy, after all. He still preferred science to politics though.

He heard her voice first, though he couldn’t make out all the words until he got closer. It sounded like she was talking to someone and his heart dropped.

“...but we’ll be alright won’t we? Just the two of us? It might not be exactly what I imagined, but now I can’t think of any other life for myself. It’s strange how quickly I’ve come to love you.”

Fitz emerged from behind a rose bush and spotted her on a bench, very much alone but with her hand resting protectively over her stomach. Two months. It had been two months since the night they spent together. More than enough time for her to realize she was with child.

She looked up at the sound of his boots on the rocky path.

“Fitz!” They stared at each other across the distance and he wanted nothing more than to sweep her up into his arms. “How did you find me?”

He took a few steps closer and then stopped. She hadn’t exactly run into his arms when she saw him.

“Well, you told me you’d likely be sent to your aunt, so I was planning on waiting for you here. But I was...detained in London. I wanted to come after you as soon as you left.”

“But how did you know where I was? Did you investigate me?”

“What? No, of course not. I remembered that you used to spend your summers here...even after I was away at school and couldn’t spend them with you.”

“You remembered me?”

“Of course I did. I knew who you were the moment I saw you.” He ducked his head. “You aren’t exactly forgettable.”

She seemed to weigh his words and picked at a thread on her gown. “I had been wondering if I’d see you someday, since your estate was so close.”

“Ahhh, so you, ah, knew who I was too?”

She raised her head to look directly at him. “Of course I did.”

“I thought maybe I’d changed since the last time we saw each other.”

“Well, I wasn’t likely to forget the boy that taught me how wonderful science could be and then let me borrow his Latin book. And your eyes haven’t changed a bit. Still the blue of the sky on a clear day.”

She looked off into the distance, a sad smile on her face.

“And we actually saw each other—“

“—three years ago,” he finished. “I wanted to ask you to dance, but I had just started working with Coulson and there was some information I needed to gather in the card room.”

Turning her attention back to him, she said, “If you are here to insist on marriage, then I’m afraid the answer is no. I don’t want to be an obligation. Plus, I am finally free from my mother’s expectations.”

She gestured to the book in her lap and Fitz took a step closer, noticing she hadn’t said anything about not wanting him. And she _had_ been wondering when they would meet again. That had to mean something.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said with a nod, dropping onto the bench. “Though I wondered if you’d be willing to say yes given the new variable.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise and he gestured towards her stomach, taking her hand in his.

“But I don’t suppose I’d want you to marry me just because of that. I will acknowledge our child as my heir either way.”

He squeezed her hand, sliding closer to her on the bench, and was certain she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be. “At least for the parts of the estate that aren’t entailed. There will probably be a huge scandal.”

“Fitz —“ She tried to interrupt him, but he didn’t want her to say no again before he finished.

“I just needed to see you. To, ah, know why you left. I’ve never felt like this before, but I know you might not feel the same way. If you don’t want to get married then I guess I’m just here to ravish you.”

She smiled at him then. That big smile full of happiness and hope.

“If you come home with me, I have a very large, very comfortable bed, where it will be much easier to ravish you properly. I’m afraid I didn’t quite do it right last time.”

He tried to stay calm, but his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. This was the moment that could change the rest of his life.

She turned towards him and her lips quirked. “All evidence points to the contrary, Fitz. I believe you did an exemplary job. And in seven months we’ll get to see the results of that experiment.”

Her free hand touched her stomach and he felt a swell of pride. Not that getting her with child was something he should feel proud of, he supposed. It wasn’t a special talent. But he intended to love their child as much as he loved her.

“I appreciate that, Jemma, but I really feel like I could do a better job of ravishing you properly if you give me another chance. Or a lifetime of chances to make you happy.”

She was still smiling so he dropped to his knees in front of her, taking both hands on his.

“Jemma, marry me. I don’t want to go another day without you. You have always been the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Smart, funny, brave, beautiful.”

She made happy sort of sound, but let him finish his speech, which he was grateful for, because if he stopped he wasn’t sure he’d remember where to start again.

“I want to wake up next to you and learn about science with you. Did I mention I have an extensive library?”

She laughed, though there were unshed tears in her eyes.

“Leopold Fitz, are you trying to tempt me with books?”

She pulled his hands to hers and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m interested in your library, but I’m afraid your bed doesn’t sound quite adventurous enough.”

He thought she was teasing him, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Well, how about we compromise? I’d be open to ravishing you in the library from time to time if you agree to be my wife. I love you, Jemma.”

She slipped off the bench to her knees and leaned in to kiss him gently, but after a few moments she deepened the kiss and he wrapped her in his arms. She was so real and solid. He never wanted to let her go.

“I love you, Fitz.” She seemed to laugh and cry at the same time. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I guess we should get married as soon as possible. I don’t want to be without you any longer.”

“Not sure it matters at this point,” she said, bringing his hand to her still flat stomach. “And there’s no one around.”

He sighed, and pulled her to her feet.

“You are going to be my countess, Jemma. We can’t get caught in your aunt’s garden.”

She made a face at him. “I didn’t realize you were so stuffy, Fitz.”

He was deep in thought and it took a few seconds to process her words.

“What? I’m not stuffy. I just need to talk to your father. Or at least your uncle.”

“And then?”

“Well, and then...” he began, looking up at the darkening clouds. “And then your aunt should realize that a storm is coming and I walked here.”

“She won’t send you out in the rain, especially if you are willing to marry me. You _are_ an earl, even if you are Scottish.”

“Exactly. So when she invites me to dinner and to stay the night —“

“I can sneak into your room,” Jemma finished, with a big smile on her face. “Brilliant.”

She kissed him deeply again and his hands drifted over her body. “I love you, Jemma.”

“I love you too, Fitz,” she said seriously. “Now let’s go find my aunt and uncle. I would like you to ravish me as soon as possible.”

He smiled and offered her his arm. “Anything for you, Jemma.”

As they walked together into the house, Fitz found he couldn’t wait to begin his next adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to hear from you. You can find me on tumblr/Discord/pillowfort @LibbyWeasley


End file.
